


fell in love like it's easy

by spectrespecs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Life, Post-Canon, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Unpacking moving boxes and memories, the very specific kink of Keith calling Shiro princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:32:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectrespecs/pseuds/spectrespecs
Summary: Keith decides to get his and Shiro's new house all unpacked and ready before Shiro arrives. Except all Keith does is think about how much he misses his husband until the man, the love of his life, finally comes home.





	fell in love like it's easy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiedbows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiedbows/gifts).



> Happy birthday to the amazing, lovely, brilliant, wow isn't she GREAT, Jade, who I am truly lucky to have as a friend. You deserve the world gorl.
> 
> Title from ["Mile High" by James Blake.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pkHlze-Pg3g)

Neither of them would have ever asked this of the Garrison. Even though they won’t say so out loud, but now that the apartment offered to them is theirs, Shiro and Keith maybe feel just a little bit like they deserve it. For the past few years, they had been content using the Captain’s Quarters of the Atlas as their home—and they would still be doing so—but the thought of a place to live on Earth seemed like such an afterthought. When the new Garrison housing areas were finished with the rebuilding efforts, Iverson and Sam came to Shiro and Keith with the news that they had an apartment specifically for two of the highest ranking and married Garrison officers. Shiro and Keith tried to decline saying that they didn’t need anywhere else other than the roomy but still modest space on the Atlas, but after a  _ come on, boys, check it out _ from Sam, well, they did, and were convinced that okay maybe this would be nice. It was much, much bigger than the Atlas quarters, and Keith thought it had been a lie to refer to it as an apartment with the fact it was three floors. It just so happened to be attached to Garrison housing.

The access codes and hand scanners have been programmed for Shiro and Keith for weeks, but they’ve both been too busy to actually go about finally getting their new home setup. All the couple managed was to order some bits of furniture to be sent to the apartment and have their accumulating odds and ends in storage sent there as well. Shiro needed to go to a meeting organized by Allura with the leaders of a few planets that had just been freed from some of the last dredges of Galra occupation, and Keith needed to go with Krolia and Acxa to work with new Blade recruits. The apartment fell to the bottom of the list of things to attend to.

But Keith couldn’t stop thinking about that apartment. Both Keith and Shiro were quick to know that their home is in the stars with each other, but there was something about roots on the solid ground that didn’t sound so stifling to Keith anymore because it was with Shiro. It was a center of stability. A place for them to go to when both of them had time off and were planetside. 

Shiro still had another day with Allura on New Altea, but instead of choosing to go there to be with Shiro and return to Earth together as the Atlas and her crew took a few weeks off, Keith chose to go ahead back to the Garrison and get some work in on the apartment. 

Keith stands in the middle of the living room on the first floor surrounded by boxes and boxes with his hands on his hips. He surveys everything that he needs to go through in front of him and lets out a huff, maybe wishing for just a little bit he could return to training new recruits how to properly throw a knife. But this is something he wanted to do, so Keith rolls up the sleeves of the oversized shirt (indefinitely borrowed from Shiro) he’s wearing and gets to work. 

The first box he goes for is labeled  _ kitchen _ , and that seems like an easy enough and straightforward place to start. Keith doesn’t remember when they even acquired kitchenware, but he drags it over to the island in the middle of the kitchen and starts to pull out the contents inside. It dawns on Keith that what he’s looking at are some of the wedding gifts that Shiro and he never actually took much time to fully appreciate. They were just too busy with each other and then getting back to work that they didn’t pay attention while opening presents; they just wrote thank you cards as they went and put them in boxes for storage. 

Keith does remember, though, that majority of the kitchen items came from Hunk who pleaded with them to not rely on cafeteria food and microwaves.

“Please, read this, too,” Hunk implored as he handed them a copy of  _ The Joy of Cooking, 200th Anniversary Edition _ .

“I saw a book like this once,” Keith mused as he took it from Hunk’s hands. “It wasn’t about cooking but was sure about the joy of something.”

Shiro snorted as Hunk looked scandalized. “I know exactly what you’re talking about, Keith, and how dare you. A properly roasted potato can be just as joyful as sex.”

Then it had been Shiro’s turn to look shocked and Keith’s to start laughing. “It better be a damn good potato.”

Keith arranges the book on the center of the island like it’s a coffee table book that should be flipped through for the pretty pictures. In a way, that’s what the book probably will be for Shiro and Keith.  _ Wow, look at all these lovely recipes that we will likely never make. _

“Kitchen, prove me wrong,” Keith mutters as he pulls the last of a baking set out of the box and moves on to the other culinary items.

After having semi-recently needed to cut his hair for a mission, which he still resented, Keith’s hair was back at the length it had been after the war ended, so he couldn’t easily tie it back or throw it into a braid. Keith digs out the hair clips he only uses in the privacy of home because Shiro thinks he looks cute and pins his hair away from his face so it stops falling in his eyes as he continues with the unpacking.

They had been walking together with hands held through a bazaar on Narhax, a planet serving as a trading hub in its quadrant. The dual suns were high in the sky beating down on the open-air stalls, and Keith fished around in all his pockets trying to find a tie to get his hair up, but he turned up empty-handed. 

“I’m sure there’s someone who sells something you can use around here,” Shiro had tried at Keith’s frown. 

They didn’t. Shiro and Keith walked through stalls for 30 minutes and found nothing that would work as a hair tie, which Keith found to be ridiculous that not even one seller they encountered was from a planet whose residents needed to tie things. Shiro spent most of Keith’s grumblings with a hand over his face hiding laughter.

“I could use my arm to hold your hair up and have it just float behind you?” Shiro offered unhelpfully. Keith himself didn’t know his frown could go even deeper. Shiro, though, he still laughed.

They finally stumbled across a stall that specialized in fasteners, and among them were small clips that looked like they could be used on hair, so Keith handed over the GAC for them and sighed in relief as his hair was tucked up and pulled away from his face in the heat.

Shiro had gone red, and it wasn’t from the temperature.

“What?” Keith asked.

“You look…” Shiro trailed off and cleared his throat before going on. “Cute, you look cute.”

“It’s not cute, it’s practical,” Keith countered stubbornly, but he was not going to admit how he was pleased.

So, he kept the clips and pulls them out every now and then to use and watch Shiro turn the shade of Keith’s Garrison uniform, but never as much as that first time.

Once the last of the kitchen items have been given places and put away in the cupboards, Keith hops up to sit on the counter of the island. He stares at the space around him while swinging his crossed legs lightly, his heels making a soft thump against the cabinet doors under him on every backswing. For a moment that’s all the noise there is in the apartment, and the thumps match the beat of his heart. 

It’s surreal. Keith already went through this once after Shiro told Keith to stay permanently in the Captain’s Quarters with him in the Atlas because he was already there more often than his own room aboard the ship. 

“What are you thinking?” Shiro asked after Keith dumped the last of his few belongings into Shiro’s room. They both had little, but soon it would be mixed together and all be  _ theirs _ instead of separate. Shiro’s arms wrapped around Keith from behind as he continued to look out the large observation window in the room.

“Nothing,” Keith replied automatically. One of those things he’d still not broken the habit of doing when asked that question.

Shiro bumped his nose on Keith’s cheek, and even though he couldn’t see him, Keith could tell that a small smile was on Shiro’s face. “You can’t use that on me, babe,” Shiro replied.

Keith sighed. “I never thought I would have this?”

“You were always meant to go to space. You were always meant to have the stars,” Shiro told him gently.

“Not that, this. Everything,” Keith tried to explain. The love of his life with his arms around him standing where they live together in a spaceship while looking at stars light years away from Earth. And that love is Shiro. The seeds of this idea hadn’t even been planted the day that Shiro handed Keith a card after bailing him out of the juvenile detention center. It was just a dream for Keith to imagine as he combed the stars to find Shiro, an image of one day, what if, whenever Keith found him. The image burned in the back of his mind as he cried out a confession at the clone. But here it was, real.

Keith shivers at the memory and wonders if they’ll have a similar moment when they take in the sight of their new home properly or is it just going to feel like the most normal and mundane thing in the world. They’re married. They already live together. This is just a new space for them to do all that in.

Hopping off the counter, Keith goes back to the living room and looks over the boxes. His eyes stop on each of their labels, some of them obvious like  _ bedroom _ and  _ living room, _ but his eyes land on the two of the boxes he was looking for. Shiro’s scrawl on the side declaring  _ wedding gifts: Earth edition _ and  _ wedding gifts: not Earth edition. _ It was the hasty way they had decided to categorize everything as they opened it. Shiro had found it hilarious, tears filling his eyes from laughing so hard and eventually tapering off into drunk on humor hiccups. Keith had rolled his eyes, but in reality, it was one of the most beautiful sights to see Shiro—his husband—so carefree like that. 

Going for  _ Earth edition _ first, Keith cuts the tape off. It’s another dreamlike moment looking into the box. Here are these everyday traditional things that make such reasonable wedding gifts. Things you would expect at a nice wedding that happens on a weekend with the perfect weather and touching vows that end with a reception of fairy lights and dancing. Keith supposes that Shiro and he did have that, but nothing was ever going to be normal for them.

Their wedding fell on a Thursday because it just so happened that was the day everyone’s schedules worked to be free. The paladins are easy to gather since they all still hang out frequently and stay in close orbit to the Garrison as they all continue to work in new efforts post-war. But getting Krolia and Kolivan along with the other Blades who Keith has become close enough to consider friends can be more difficult. But they find a day, and it’s a Thursday.

“Universal peacekeeping doesn’t stop for anyone,” Keith had laughed when they finally set the date.

“Especially not for the ones trying to keep the peace,” Shiro added as he put an arm around Keith to pull him closer on the couch.

“But what if we did,” Keith whispered conspiratorially. “What if we just say ‘hey, the universe is closed for the day so the people who defended it can get married.’ I think that’s justified.”

Shiro laughed, one of his full-bodied laughs that had become more frequent in the years following the war. It’s a laugh where he fell backward onto the couch and pulled Keith down with him. “Yeah,” he let out one last giggle before going on. “I think that’ll go over well.”

“It’s not too much to ask to be the center of the universe for one day,” Keith smiled as he rearranged himself and pushed Shiro around until he was lying on his soon-to-be-husband’s chest. 

“You’re the center of my universe,” Shiro cupped Keith’s face with one hand and his ass with the other. 

Keith groaned. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were cool.”

“What do you mean, I  _ was _ and  _ am  _ cool.”

“Sure, sure,” Keith muttered and leaned in to kiss Shiro. They forgot about planning the wedding any further that day.

When the day of their wedding arrived, it rained. It rained and rained and seemed like it would never stop. 

“Figures this is one of the, like, five days a year it rains like this out here,” Pidge commented while sitting on the counter in the Garrison kitchen. Hunk was icing the wedding cake that he insisted on making, and Keith was trying to look for things to do until he needed to get ready. The ceremony was set to start at sundown outside a few miles into the desert. 

“It’s fine,” Keith waved off the issue.

“Where else can you have it? At the Garrison? In the cafeteria? Or maybe the gym and you can make your vows just the two of you sparring,” Pidge paused. “Actually, that might lead somewhere nobody wants.”

Keith blushed. “We’ll figure it out,” he chose not to acknowledge Pidge’s comment. “It’s not like Shiro and I aren’t adaptable, you know.”

“Just some tough luck, man,” Hunk offered as he piped small flowers that look like blooming idier root from New Daibaizaal, their stems intertwining with cherry blossoms. “Also I feel like you’re not supposed to see the cake before?”

“That’s the groom,” Pidge corrected. She took one of the spatulas with icing on it and started to lick it contentedly. 

“Shiro and I aren’t doing that,” Keith shook his head.

“Just throwing tradition to the wind,” Hunk straightened from where he was bent down at the cake. “I like it.”

In the end, they get married in the rain on a Thursday evening. Everyone was surprisingly open to standing outside once the rain let up to a steady drizzle. The sunset wasn’t visible fully, but the sky still changed colors streaking the clouds with dark purple and fire red. And the rain fell down on them, their family, and friends as Shiro and Keith had to start yelling the vows they wrote over the rain when it picked up. Their simple suits were soaked, and Keith will never admit that for a moment during the ceremony all he wanted was to open Shiro’s jacket and see how the thin white fabric of the button-up was sticking to his skin. 

When Coran, serving as officiant, announced them to be husbands and kiss, the sound of their loved ones cheering drowned out the steady rain. 

Keith had dug his hand into the wet strands at the top of Shiro’s head and held on as Shiro pulled him close with the Altean arm. He should be cold in the rain, but at that moment he was burning.

They did have their reception in the Garrison cafeteria, moved from the plan of tables set up outside. Everyone toweled off and ate and danced and laughed, and it was the lightest Keith felt in a long, long time. Krolia wrapped her arms around Keith and murmured how happy she was for him into his hair before leaving a kiss there. They were on the dancefloor, or rather, tables were pushed away to clear an area for dancing. Something soft was playing, and Keith realized while swaying with his mother that he had never felt more loved than this moment as well.

So, no, their Thursday rainy wedding with a military cafeteria reception wasn’t quite normal, but it seemed the right amount of chaotic for them. And inside this box of wedding presents there are coasters made from hand carved gemstone, the softest and warmest blanket that Keith has ever encountered, a set of candles with scents from Earth that he hasn’t thought about in ages (when was the last time he smelled jasmine trees, if ever), and so many serving platters that Keith groaned at the aspect of trying to find room for these as well in the just organized kitchen. Why did everyone think they would be throwing so many parties as to need serving dishes for days?

Keith remembers one time before the Kerberos mission—another lifetime ago—when he watched Shiro attempt to follow a recipe. It hadn’t gone terribly, but it hadn’t gone well either. Maybe meatloaf had been too ambitious. Keith thinks that perhaps one day when they have the time they’ll try to cook together. They navigate the stars together, who is to say they can’t navigate the kitchen together as well?

That’s a new dream, a new image for the future for Keith to hold. Dancing in their kitchen as they wait for a successful meatloaf to bake. 

The other boxes of the Earth edition wedding gifts carry the same theme of the first one with things for their home. Practical items like a fancy electric wine opener that Keith is sure they’ll use one day, and then some things Keith finds nice but less useful like a set of very nice vases that are likely to never see plants, and if they do, they’ll probably die when one or both of them forget to water the poor things.

After taking all the bonus kitchen items to the kitchen, Keith attempts to place the other trinkets around the living room. He thinks he once saw something about artfully throwing a blanket across a couch, but no matter how he does it, Keith just thinks it looks unkempt. They have one coffee table that Keith piles all the vases, coasters, and candles on to, and that will have to suffice for now. Once he’s fluffed the decorative pillows someone gave them and plopped them on the couch, Keith collapses down onto it. 

The space wolf appears in his usual surprise flash manner, but Keith had a moment’s notice as he felt the wolf’s quintessence push into the space. As soon as he sees Keith loafing on the couch, the space wolf jumps to join him. Keith lets out an  _ oof _ at the much too large Kosmo attempting to cuddle on the not big enough couch.

“Hey, boy,” Keith wheezes out and extracts an arm from where it was stuck under Kosmo to pet his ears. “Like the new place?” Kosmo just adjusts himself to tuck in closer. “I’ll take it as a yes.” A few quiet minutes go by as Keith unconsciously scratches behind Kosmo’s ears. “I wish Shiro was here,” Keith whispers to himself, but it makes Kosmo’s head perk up. “Miss him, too?” the wolf simply stares at Keith before settling down again.

Only a week has passed since they last saw each other, but this came on the tail of the two of them being together almost every day for a good few months since the last missions that made them be apart for an extended period of time. So Keith is not used to this feeling and once again mentally admonishes himself for choosing to come set up the house instead of just meeting up with Shiro. Maybe they could have done this together and it would have been more fun than Keith becoming exasperated over serving platters.

But Keith is one to commit to what he started, so he pushes Kosmo—much to the space wolf’s annoyance—off so he can get up from the couch and continue the process of going through the boxes. Next comes the not Earth wedding gifts, and he almost thinks maybe this is one for the two of them to go through together, but he started this so he should finish it.

First, there’s a scanner of some sort that Keith fiddles with until it suddenly scans one of the candles on the table. After a moment an image of the candle appears on the screen of the scanner and numbers start blinking that tell its weight, dimensions, and volume. Why does Keith vaguely feel like this is another kitchen gadget somehow? He sighs and starts what he assumes will be the next but not last kitchenware pile of the day. 

There’s a cube that looks extremely similar to those of the Oklari, but after a prod to the button on it, it unexpectedly jumps and hovers out of Keith’s hand before enveloping the room in darkness and then projecting a three-dimensional space map. Keith spends some time curiously examining the gadget and figures out how to pan around and see other areas of space. There’s also a place to enter coordinates, so Keith tests it with New Daibazaal before continuing to flick through and find other areas to look up.

He stops when he finds himself looking at a familiar quadrant, but he can’t quite remember why he knows it or what happened here. Keith closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to think because it will drive him up a wall if he can’t place the knowledge. 

It’s the Tarvorian System. His eyes open and look around to find it. Planet Tarvrock sits in the middle of the system with its purple oceans, red mountains, and yellow grass. 

Sure, Keith and Shiro have managed to have proper dates together over the years, maybe not as many as they like, but they’ve managed. Keith adores all of them for their own reasons, but that day on Tavrock just has something about it that will always make it better than the rest. 

Nothing monumental happened there. It was early in their relationship, just a few months past whispered confessions in the debris of the final battle and still several months away from living together. Shiro and the Atlas came to meet the Blades who had already been working on the planet with its residents. The Tavroans spent time under Galran occupation because below their rising red mountains are precious metals that the Galra had interest in, but now they were working to rebuild the damage done to their terrain. They are proud of their planet, and once the formal dinner with the leaders of Tavrock was finished, the visitors were all encouraged to go spend time outside. It was an oxygen-based planet, so Shiro and Keith were able to put on civilian clothes as they ventured out. 

They walked. That was it. They simply walked around while holding hands and talking about nothing in particular, going between stories of how Keith witnessed Krolia admonish Kolivan so harshly during a mission he’d never seen the Blade leader look so scared and the time that Iverson tried to eat a sandwich on the bridge of the Atlas, which Shiro found acceptable, but Coran had shown up yelling about respect for spaces.

“How have you been sleeping?” Keith had asked quietly because he saw that the circles under Shiro’s eyes had gotten darker, he knew that the dreams weren’t getting better. 

“Not great,” Shiro admitted, and Keith was thankful that he was awarded a true answer and not given Captain Shirogane’s smile that pretended everything was alright. “I was missing you,” Shiro then admitted. 

“Oh,” Keith looked down at his feet, watching them walk in time with Shiro’s. He then felt Shiro move their joined hands and turned his eyes up to watch Shiro bring Keith’s hand to his mouth and place a kiss on the knuckles.

“But you’re here now,” Shiro’s smile is small but radiant.

“I am,” Keith said. “Would it help...if I stay with you?”

“You are with me.”

“No, I mean at night.” Shiro’s mouth opened, but Keith started again before the other man could say anything. “Not like that—unless you want, but, uh—just to help you sleep. The dreams,” Keith rushed out.

“I would like that,” Shiro answered, voice so soft it could have been a breeze. 

“Okay, good,” Keith nodded, then thinking about the weight of what he had agreed to. Sleeping next to Shiro in bed. They’ve slept in close quarters before, sure, but they weren’t a couple then, just two boys who dreamt of space and were dealt difficult hands.

“And Keith?”

“Yeah.”

“I do want,” Shiro’s voice dipped lower as he said it. “If you do.”

Keith stopped walking, so Shiro halted as well and turned to face Keith. Their hands were still holding each other. Light from the planet’s sun struck Shiro’s hair and made it glow bright, but his eyes were dark with a feeling that makes Keith’s stomach flip just to remember. 

Oh, god, did Keith want. And he still does, always.

“I do,” Keith breathed out. It’ll be another two years before he says those same words while facing Shiro in another context—a Thursday in the rain.

Following that, they slipped back into what they had been doing, simply walking and appreciating the outdoors. They stopped at one point and Keith unloaded some sandwiches and a blanket from his pack so they could have a small picnic. And it was all so easy. Nothing felt different, it just felt like Keith and Shiro spending time together like they did when Keith was bruised after a fight at the Garrison, like after Keith beat Shiro’s sim scores and they went off base for ice cream, like how they would retreat together in the Castle of Lions when the presence of everyone else felt overbearing but being with each other never felt anything other than natural.

That night Keith had slid into the left side of Shiro’s bed, and Shiro had put his arm around him to pull Keith closer. The Altean arm held Keith close while Shiro’s other hand cupped Keith’s face, thumb stroking his cheek before leaning in for a kiss. They’d done this before, kiss, plenty. But never more. Not yet. But now Keith slid his tongue into Shiro’s mouth and pulled the front of his shirt as he rolled so the solid weight of Shiro shifted to be on top of him. 

“Yeah?” Shiro pulled back and asked, eyes roaming over Keith’s face and dipping lower to look at how close their bodies were hovering.

“Yes,” Keith replied, arms going around Shiro’s neck and pulling him down for their lips to meet again.

Later, bare, wrapped in each other with Shiro’s head resting on Keith’s chest, they fell asleep after trading  _ I love you _ back and forth. That night, Shiro didn’t dream. That night, Keith dreamt about his forever.

Keith concedes maybe nothing happened on the date, but that night when the Atlas took flight back into space to travel to the next planet in the system, well, something happened then. Keith knew Shiro was it for him, and that day only cemented for Keith what he knew to be true—there could never be anyone other than Shiro ever. Maybe it was written on stone somewhere, carved into the rocky side of a cave,  _ Shiro and Keith forever _ .

Kosmo nudges Keith’s leg, and it jolts him out of his thoughts. Keith turns off the map and then rubs his face. He keeps drifting off in memories, thinking  _ damn, _ he really misses Shiro more than he realized. Looking at the time, there are still four hours to go before the Atlas is supposed to return to Earth, and following that another hour at least for debriefings and all post-mission matters. So, five hours. Keith can wait five hours for Shiro. He’d already waited his whole life for the man, and he will always wait. This is something Keith can do.

Keith does not like to spend too long thinking about that year in the desert watching the night sky that used to make him feel so eager to be in it, but then it had just made him angry. How could it betray him and take away Shiro like that?

But Shiro came back. And he came back. And he came back.  _ He always comes back, _ Keith thinks to himself as he moves on to the next box. Trying to catch himself before he spirals into a place he has no need to go, Keith touches the ring sitting with unquestioned promise on his finger and settles on a box labeled for the living room. 

Of course, there have been times now where Keith has made Shiro wait. The world is funny like that, how it’ll turn the tables on you. Shiro waited by Keith’s hospital bed after the lions fell from the sky. Shiro waited for Keith when he asked Keith to meet him on the roof to talk a week after the last battle and Keith suddenly became overcome with fear at the prospect of what he could possibly want to discuss and showed up a half-hour late, and then Shiro barely had to wait for Keith’s reaction after saying  _ I love you. _ Shiro had also waited when Keith was part of a Blade mission that got caught in forgotten Galran bombs that abruptly went off. 

Maybe that’s just how it is. They’ll always wait on each other; they’ll always come back to each other.

Keith decides he needs something more distracting as he feels time is going at its most sluggish pace, so he puts some new television channel on his datapad and props it against the candles on the coffee table, letting it be background noise as he goes around the room depositing bookends and lamps (mostly on the floor, they really need to get another table). Once the living room is taken care of, Keith turns to the boxes labeled for the bedroom.

“Hey, boy, can you help?” Keith asks while petting Kosmo’s head. The wolf gives a happy bark and immediately knows what to do when Keith keeps a hand on Kosmo and the other on a box. After a few more teleports back and forth, the boxes have been brought up to the third floor where the master suite is located. Sure, he could have carried the boxes up himself, gotten a good workout out of it, but Keith’s allowed to be lazy every once in a while. He still drops himself onto the bed, tired as if he hadn’t had Kosmo’s help.

Kosmo gives a small bark and nudges Keith’s hand before teleporting out of the bedroom, probably to now go occupy the entirety of the couch since Keith has sprawled himself across the bed. Closing his eyes, Keith tells himself he’ll rest just for a few minutes before starting up on unpacking in the room.

He inevitably drifts off to sleep, first just peaceful darkness before dreams swim into his vision. It’s not about the future but the past, probably for all the time he’s spent reminiscing today. He dreams about the first time they formed Voltron, how exhilarating it felt to not only be piloting the Red Lion but also to be flying with Shiro. Once they had landed back at the castle and Keith asked how they did it, Shiro thumped him on the back with a smile. Shiro had done that before, too. A week before the Kerberos launch, Shiro and Keith sat together on a blanket out in the desert with their hoverbikes behind them. Keith declared that Shiro would be back because he had a promise to fly with Keith one day. The promise was kept but not quite in the manner either of them had expected it to. 

Soft murmurs of his name and touches along his hips and thighs take over the dream, and Keith shifts as he feels the warmth of two hands he knows well and squirms in the hold.

“Keith, baby,” he hears said a bit louder, and it makes Keith slowly blink awake. When his eyes finally manage to open, his favorite sight is above him. Shiro leans over Keith, tuft of hair falling forward to just barely graze Keith’s face. Light from the setting sun outside streams in and tints Shiro’s hair in oranges and reds. His eyes are bright, and combined with a hint of a smirk and the top buttons of his Admiral’s uniform undone, the image makes Keith’s heartbeat speed up. This soft and casual Shiro will never _not_ take Keith’s breath away.

“Shiro,” Keith’s voice is low and rough, sleep still sticking to him as he tries to push up on his elbows, but Shiro leans over him further, balancing himself above Keith with one arm and keeping the other wrapped around his hip.

“Hey,” Shiro dips lower and bumps his nose against Keith. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” Keith raises his arms to put around Shiro’s neck. The exchange feels natural as a response to the time they’ve been apart, but letting the admission free from his mind and voiced to Shiro instead of to an empty apartment or Kosmo makes Keith feel raw. He feels peeled back and exposed when the extent to which Shiro carved himself into Keith becomes evident. 

But Shiro always bundles him back up, places the pieces pulled back into place while also wedging himself into the crevices of Keith he’s made his own home. Shiro shifts to get his arms under Keith and roll them over so they are enveloped in each other's arms, lying on their sides on the bed with legs tangled. They stay like that for a few minutes in silence, taking the presence of the other in and refilling their stocks of need. 

“I didn’t mean to sleep for so long,” Keith mumbles into Shiro’s neck.

“How long were you out?”

“There were still three and a half hours left before you’d land.”

Shiro exhales sharply, almost like a partially formed laugh, and then pulls back so he can look at Keith’s face. “We landed early, and I came straight here, left the post-mission work for later. You’ve only been asleep for an hour.”

“How did you manage to get back early?” Keith asks with a frown.

“I had the motivation to speed matters up at the meeting,” Shiro flashes his smile reserved for official events but when used on Keith means he’s up to something. Keith raises an eyebrow and continues to frown, which makes Shiro’s smile go soft with a little laugh. “Fine, Allura is very good at her job and managed to get the meeting finished early, and  _ I _ am a very good pilot and flew us back with efficiency.”

Shiro rarely voices his talent out loud, generally shrugging it off, but the moments where he actually owns and speaks up of his skills, well, Keith feels both weak for it and flushed with pride. Admiral, Captain, Leader, Greatest Pilot of his Generation. These are all the titles Shiro wears, and Keith wants to make certain everyone knows and remembers that. Especially Shiro himself.

“Well, Captain,” Keith grins, gently rubbing a thumb along the back of Shiro’s neck. “We’re lucky you’re so good.” Shiro’s cheeks tint pink, and he lets out a groan before taking his turn to hide his face in Keith’s neck.

“Stop it,” Shiro’s voice is muffled with his breathing tickling Keith’s neck.

“What, it’s true?”

Shiro pulls back. Their faces are so close, and it’s amazing neither of them has closed that distance yet. They’re both straining to do so, but that’s the other thing about them now. They’re so comfortable in each other, in their relationship, that even though the yearning within them will reach a fevered high after being apart for days or weeks, as soon as they see each other it’s not a roaring river of need to be engulfed in each other. Instead, it’s a steady river flow. They let the presence of each other wash over them and become reacquainted with the feeling of the other. It’s so easy to fall in. But then there’s a drop, a point where the want goes over the edge and they can’t stop as they topple together.

This is their moment to plunge under, and they know it.

They move together, first just a small peck at their lips, and Keith’s eyes flit down to look at Shiro’s mouth and then back up to his heating eyes. Their next kiss lasts longer, a firmer press and Keith feels Shiro’s deep exhale from his nose. Keith lets his eyes slowly close before angling his head and parting his lips for Shiro, letting Shiro lick into him and give a bite to his bottom lip before running over it with his tongue and repeating the motions. 

Getting lost in each other is always oh, so, easy. And they let themselves go, each move of their heads, every dip of a tongue, it all feels like another turn in a maze they make together and go deeper and deeper, running through not caring about anything around them until it’s too much and they need to take a moment to collect themselves.

A few small lingering kisses later, they pull back and look at each other. Keith feels heat pool in his core at how Shiro’s face is flushed, red running down his neck under the line of his unbuttoned uniform. His eyes are bright, and his hair has been mussed where Keith’s hands slid through it. 

Shiro hums. “So, what did you do today?” he asks so casually with that boyish smile back on his face. Keith rolls his eyes, and Shiro gives him one more quick kiss.

“I wanted to get the place set up a bit before you got back, but I don’t think I got very far,” Keith says.

Shiro makes a  _ hmpf _ sound before replying. “It looked pretty set downstairs.”

“No, I started and didn’t finish,” Keith laments. “I wanted it to make it nice for you to come home to.”

“Keith, baby,” Shiro’s voice is so gentle. “I don’t care where or what I come home to unless you’re there.”

Keith’s face heats because even after all these years it still makes him flush to hear Shiro so easily share his thoughts, to so openly give Keith his adoration, while Keith crumbles under the attention. “You’re so dumb,” Keith rolls his eyes again but this time he leans in for a kiss. In his own way, Keith is saying  _ you, too _ to Shiro, and Keith hopes Shiro knows it. Keith hopes that there was some succinct way to turn to Shiro and tell him  _ I forgot what home was until you. I didn’t know home could exist outside of four walls and a roof but also could be held within someone with the kindest eyes and a jaw that feels like my hand was made to cup it. _

The weight of it all gets caught in Keith’s throat making tears threaten to form in his eyes. He blinks fast and tries to duck his head back into Shiro’s neck to hide the reaction, and Shiro lets him go, putting his arms around Keith. And Keith knows, completely, that while he thinks of all the ways Shiro opened a future to him, Shiro is thinking the same about him. 

Once he’s collected himself, Keith can’t stay away from the warm and soft skin that is in front of him and starts to leave small kisses on Shiro’s neck. The other man lets out of a huff of a laugh and drags one arm up Keith’s body to his hair and grips loosely. Just that light touch in his hair makes Keith push forward, the kisses turning to bites. Shiro groans and rolls them again so Keith is lying on top of him.

Keith drags a hand up and down Shiro’s chest, and then on the next slide down lets his fingers snap back the fastenings on the Admiral’s jacket. Shiro watches Keith with wanting eyes, lips just barely parted. Once the final button falls away, Keith pushes the lapels of the jacket to the side and places a hand on Shiro’s abdomen to feel the solid and firm muscle there. He moves his hand down and slips just one finger under the hem of Shiro’s undershirt, and now when he drags his hand up, the tight shirt goes with it. Shiro arches his back so the shirt continues to slide up until it’s bunched around his chest, and Keith slips his hand further up, letting go of the shirt and letting the finger that had been pulling it up land on Shiro’s lips. They’re wet and red from kissing, and Keith rubs them gently. Shiro shifts and grips Keith’s wrist, holding the hand in place as he kisses the finger and then starts to trail more kisses down Keith’s hand and wrist, slowly sitting up as he raises the arm higher to continue his affection.

The sleeve falls back easily as it was already too loose on Keith. He watches as Shiro’s eyes flutter and he places one last kiss on Keith’s shoulder, still under clothes as the sleeve didn’t slip back that far. Shiro turns his gaze to him, and Keith feels his own breath catch at the look of desire so deeply set into Shiro’s face. 

“Hey,” Shiro whispers.

“Hey,” Keith replies, also in a whisper, as if they were about to share some secret. He says nothing more, just finishes what he started by pushing Shiro’s jacket the rest of the way off and pulling the shirt off as well. Shiro will never stop being breathtaking to Keith.

Keith’s shirt finds itself thrown aside shortly after, and Shiro pulls Keith closer on his lap to say quietly into his ear, “You’re beautiful.”

Keith? He’s still wearing those damn hair clips and probably has at least one errant smudge of dust across his face from the boxes. Keith may not feel particularly attractive in the moment, and Shiro’s tender compliment makes him wrap his arms around Shiro even tighter. When he pulls back, Shiro cups his face and looks into Keith’s eyes. Keith needs to take a deep breath to calm himself from how quickly he’s starting to feel overwhelmed. Slipping his hand to Shiro’s chest, Keith can feel Shiro’s heartbeat giving away how he’s anticipating this moment as well. Shiro places his flesh hand in Keith’s hair, fingers playing with one of the clips.

“May I?” he asks like a gentleman about hair clips.

“Always,” Keith nods.

Shiro slowly undoes each clip in Keith’s hair so bit by bit his locks fall back into place. When he’s done, Shiro transfers the clips to his Altean arm and floats it to Keith’s side table to deposit them there. It’s such a simple and sweet gesture, but it causes a rush of affection within Keith for Shiro. This man has done so much for him—crossed classrooms to planets to galaxies—but even the smallest task can make Keith feel like he cannot breathe from containing how much he loves Shiro.

Once he settles back in Shiro’s lap, Keith starts to work on the buttons of Shiro’s pants. After they’re off, Keith gets off the bed and discards his own. He looks at Shiro’s jacket on the floor and decides after a second of thought to pick it up and slide it onto himself. Shiro’s eyes manage to flash even darker as Keith crawls back over to Shiro on the bed, naked save for the Admiral’s jacket.

“What’re you doing?” Shiro’s voice is so low, it makes Keith feel warm and his arousal spike.

“Taking care of you,” Keith states simply, pushing Shiro in the middle of the chest to make him lie back.

“But you worked so hard on the apartment, baby,” Shiro sticks one arm out to catch himself from falling back and the other wraps around Keith’s forearm, large hand able to completely encircle it.

“And you were off being a diplomat this morning before crossing across space to get home,” Keith gives another shove to Shiro, who still won’t budge. He changes tactics and takes hold of the back of Shiro’s neck with the hand that had been on his chest. Keith massages the muscle momentarily before sliding the hand up to grip Shiro’s hair. “You deserve this. Let me take care of you, princess.”

Shiro’s breath hitches at the name, and his eyes close when Keith makes the hold on his hair harder. “Sweetheart,” Shiro breathes out.

“Come on,” Keith pushes. And that’s all it takes for Shiro to visibly let go, his entire body loosens as he tips his head back. Keith releases his hold, and as if that was all the support keeping him upright, Shiro falls back against the bed. “Good boy,” Keith rewards Shiro’s compliance by taking Shiro in hand, lightly stroking and feeling him get harder with Keith’s touch.

Humming, Shiro keeps his eyes partially open as he stretches his arms up above his head, the movement thrusting slightly into Keith’s hand. When he settles back into the bed, a slow, content smile unfurls across his lips. “This is nice,” he comments. 

“It’ll get better,” Keith adds, and he lets go of Shiro, hand trailing to hold a beautifully defined hip. “Turn around.”

Before following Keith’s orders, Shiro sits up and touches the lapel of his Admiral’s jacket. “This looks good on you,” his eyes trace down Keith’s body. 

“Better on you, though,” Keith leans in close to Shiro so he can speak into his ear. “You know everyone wants to fuck you when you’re wearing this. You know when you’re up there in front of everyone, giving your briefing or a speech or just standing, everyone is just thinking _ damn Admiral Shirogane. _ But you know what?”

“What,” Shiro exhales. 

Keith’s free hand take hold of Shiro again, tugging lightly. “You’re mine.” He can see the small tremor of a shiver that goes through Shiro at the claim, and Keith moves back, letting go of him. 

Shiro looks into Keith’s eyes, and Keith stares right back. He can so easily get lost in those steel depths. Keith always thought grey would mean being cold, a cloudy day filled with rain where they wouldn’t let him go play outside and make him stay in the home. Grey was how the world felt when his dad died. Grey was the color of the uniform Shiro wore the last time they embraced before he went up and up to Kerberos and was said to never come back. But those eyes, Shiro’s eyes, that grey was a sunny day hand-in-hand laughing and watching how warm and inviting the color could be when it’s part of the person you love. 

After appearing to look his fill, Shiro bites his lip and nods. “Yours,” he agrees, and then he obeys Keith’s command by twisting as he lies down on the bed. He props himself up on his elbows with his ass still high. Shiro turns his head to look back at Keith and repeats, “Yours.”

The Altean arm floats over to Keith’s bag in the corner of the room, hastily thrown there when he’d arrived earlier, and Shiro finds the lube before bringing it back to Keith. 

“I hate that you knew where to look,” Keith grumbles as he pops open the cap and covers his fingers.

“Marriage has made your predictable,” Shiro turns his head slightly so Keith can see one eye and part of a smirk.

Keith leaves a light smack on Shiro’s ass for the comment, but both of them laugh. Shiro stops, though, once Keith pushes the first finger in. Biting his lip, Keith takes his time with the first finger, adding more lube until Shiro is messy with it, and adds a second finger when Shiro won’t stop pressing back while whining.

“Patience,” Keith warns, letting his fingers just barely hit where Shiro wants them to.

“Fuck,” Shiro groans in frustration, and Keith finally takes pity by adding his third finger, moving it fast and sharp, pulling all the noises he can from Shiro with just this.

They take a moment to shift, resituate themselves so Keith can hold Shiro’s hip in one hand and line himself up with the other. Keith gives the curve of Shiro’s back a sweep with his eyes—that stunning arch of Shiro’s spine, the scars that Keith has kissed each and every one of. Taking a deep breath, he pushes in slowly, exhaling in a harsh puff at the same time Shiro lets out a whine. Once he’s fully in, their hips flush, Keith bends down to cover Shiro with his own body. He reaches to hold Shiro’s flesh hand so they’re both touching at as many points possible because Keith needs to them be  _ close, close close, so close. _

“Keith,” Shiro groans out, voice already sounding wrecked even though Keith has yet to move. He assumes Shiro is similarly affected just by being with each other again.

Keith rests his forehead momentarily against Shiro’s neck, placing a kiss in the dip of his back between his shoulder blades, and then starts to move. Thrusting slowly and shallowly at first, Keith closes his eyes to concentrate on how he rocks in and out of Shiro and the sounds his husband is making with broken gasps under him. Shiro starts to push back, meeting Keith halfway to urge him faster, and Keith will never deny Shiro what he wants. He speeds up, roughly pulling Shiro’s hips back toward himself as well, fucking him hard.

Opening his eyes took to look down at Shiro, Keith watches as the hand he had let go of in favor of gripping Shiro’s hips leaves its place on the bed and Shiro trails it to his own chest, squeezing and pinching himself. “Fuck,” Keith growls, nearly coming at the sight and digging his fingers deeper in their hold on Shiro. The combined sensations make Shiro let out a long moan that ends with Keith’s name gasped out.

Keith drags a hand up Shiro’s back and grasps a shoulder, putting some pressure on it that Shiro manages to understand means  _ down. _ He goes easily, crossing his arms and resting his head against them, head turned to the side. Shiro opens his eyes when Keith stops moving and leans down to once again cover his back. “How’re you doing, babe?” Keith asks.

“So good, sweetheart,” Shiro’s voice sounds rough and his eyes are blown. White hair is matted to his forehead by sweat, and all of it together culminates in the most beautiful picture in front of Keith’s eyes. “God, keep going,” Shiro adds.

Chuckling, Keith kisses the side of Shiro’s mouth quickly. “Of course, princess,” he whispers and gives one hard thrust. Shiro cries out, eyes closing and turning his head into his arms. Keith can make out Shiro’s open mouth gasping as he keeps thrusting. 

The sun has almost fully set, just a hint of light from outside comes in, but Shiro’s arm illuminates both of them in a blue glow. This isn’t the first time that has been the only light they’ve had while fucking, but there’s something about it that makes Keith feel like they’re encompassed in their own soft world. Yes, it’s just the two of them, but the arm’s fluorescence only gives off enough light to shroud them in the light and none of their surroundings. Everything falls away to truly just be them.

Keith knows he’s getting close, so he slides a hand to Shiro’s abdomen. He grazes his hands over the muscles there before lightly scratching the course hair trailing down to where Shiro is so hard and dripping. Keith starts to stroke Shiro in time with his thrusts, muttering encouragement and praise that he barely registers at Shiro, and all he gets back from the other man are moans of his name.

Everything reaches the fever high and Shiro comes with a groan, and Keith lets himself go as he feels Shiro tighten around him and twitch in his hand. Keith repeats Shiro’s name over and over as he comes and until after when he’s collapsing down. Some days he still can’t believe fully that this is his life, and it takes the repetition out loud in moments like this to ground himself. To remember who his husband is and how this is real.

Arms hold him and shift until they wrap around him, and Keith blinks his eyes open. Shiro has rearranged them back to the position they were in earlier on the bed, looking at each other and holding close.

“Baby,” Shiro’s voice rumbles low.

“Hey,” Keith replies with a smile.

“Missed you,” Shiro mumbles and kisses Keith’s forehead.

Keith closes his eyes as he feels Shiro’s lips on his skin. “Good to have you back,” Keith whispers. 

Shiro lets out a sound of amusement. “Good to be back,” he kisses Keith on the nose this time. “Sleep, we’ll clean up later.”

“Good,” Keith nods in agreement, letting the fatigue take him. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Keith is vaguely aware of a sheet pulled around them, but he just buries deeper into Shiro’s warmth. He likes having Shiro home.

**Author's Note:**

> yell @ me: [twitter](https://twitter.com/vrepitsana)


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